Archive for August, 2004

Here I am, Lord

Last Sunday we sang Dan Schutte’s wonderful song, “Here I am, Lord“. It’s a dialogue between the calling God and the responding singer. One of the reasons I like it, apart from the rousing tune, is that the call is to minister to the people of God, and the response is from an individual, but an individual in community. I’m not all that good at community, partly because I’m shy. It’s hard for me to walk up to people and say ‘hello’. I admire those who can, but it doesn’t come naturally to me.

I’ve thought a lot about last Sunday’s worship this week. Catherine’s sermon was about integrity, truth and responding to God. God calls me and I must respond, no matter what the cost. Reading the office, praying, meditating and thinking this week has brought me back to that again and again. I know what my call is, and I know I must respond. When Catherine asked me a few weeks ago about calling I remember saying “yes, but not now.” I think that’s partly right, but there needs to be an element of ‘nowness’ about it, too. I know that the gifts I have are for sharing. This weblog is part of that, actually, as is my website. Both are an offering.

Being an oblate is about offering too. Offering myself to God, for Her to use me in whatever way She wants, in the context of Benedictine monasticism and in the context of WCCM.

This is more rambling than usual… I ask myself where I am now. In a somewhat darker, quieter and more arid place than I would like, in truth. I have to keep trusting, though, that I’m here for a reason. Jesus, my brother, show me the reason! And keep me praying Thomas Merton’s prayer. Amen.

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One of Thomas Merton’s prayers

My Lord, God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end,
nor do I really know myself, and the fact
that I think that I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please You.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust You always
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and You will never leave me to face my perils along.
Amen.
(Thomas Merton, Trappist monk)

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Restlessness

The coming week’s collect (summary prayer) in the A Prayer Book for Australia lectionary is wonderful – one of my favourites:

Creator God,
you have made us for yourself,
and our hearts are restless
until they find their rest in you:
teach us to offer ourselves to your service,
that here we may have your peace,
and in the world to come may see you face to face;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Some of the words, and all of the sentiment, come from the writings of St Augustine (whose memorial is on Saturday!). It makes me think about, however, the settling into the presence of God of meditation and prayer – taking the restless heart and resting in God. Benedict also offers a partial antidote to restlessness: stability. Stability, it seems to me, is not just being in one place (although it may be that), but being aware of God’s call to be present in each moment, and not to flee from that which is hard, difficult, distasteful or threatening. Stability is resting in God – materially, spiritually, emotionally. It means being honest with someone, and accepting your partner or co-worker when they’re having a bad day.

The readings from Benedict’s rule for the past week have been mostly about structure and order within the community. There’s a lot there, of course, but as a person who’s called to lead and have stewardship of a group of people, I’m struck by the high demands placed upon the leader of the community by Benedict. With power comes responsibility. And the responsibility is great. There’s a tendency in much of modern management to divorce the life of the people you lead from their work-life. I think leadership is more than that – it is, indeed, a servant role. I pray that Jesus will help me learn more of what it means to be a faithful servant.

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What do you think of when I say…?

What are the first words that come into your mind when I say “Jesus”?

What are the first words that come into your mind when I say “Christian”?

Why is there so often a gap between who Jesus is, and who his brothers and sisters – Christians, called to be imitators of Christ – are?

Is one of the reasons that we sometimes allow ourselves to become divorced from God’s love? That we neglect relationship with him? This has been a hard week for me. After a number of weeks on holidays, I’ve gone back to work. The schedule of prayer and meditation that was easy during holidays is suddenly hard now. I’ve missed saying the office in the morning a couple of times, and I’ve felt myself becoming inattentive to the still, small voice of God. It’s easy to do. One of the challenges of the monastic in the world, is to be true to the vocation whilst being in the world. Because it’s in that way that we take the light of Christ into the world, and allow others to feel his love. Sadly, I don’t always get there.

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Mary

Tomorrow, in the calendar used by the Anglican Church in Australia, is the feast day of Mary, Mother of Jesus. In the Roman Catholic Church it’s the Feast of the Assumption of Mary.

Mary is a bit of an enigma for me. I come from a fairly middle-church background, and devotion to Mary wasn’t a part of that. It doesn’t come naturally to me, and so I was thinking about how I could observe the feast, and what nourishment I could take for my meditation.

As I said Evening Prayer, I thought about the place of Mary. Afterwards, I picked up John Main’s Community of Love to read his chapter entitled “The Other-Centredness of Mary”. I’d like to share one quote with you:

We have to approach Mary as one of the important gospel signs of our pilgrimage of prayer – and to make the approach without fuddled heads or merely pietistic hearts. To approach her in the midst of our own sentimentality is to objectify her – to make her an image or even an idol rather than a symbol. To apprehend her full meaning which expresses the breadth, the fullness and the tenderness of the Christian mystery, we will have to understand her as a person. Like everything that leads to fulfilment in Jesus, our understanding must be personal; that is, we must understand the gospel, the Word of God, as a personal communication opening up and exploring the depths of our own intimate personhood. The experience of prayer is the experience of being known – the prerequisite for the experience is to let go of our egotistic efforts to know which too often means to control and objectify. Such efforts invariably lead us into sterility and frustration. A traditional word for the necessary disposition for prayer, which the gospel incarnates in Luke’s account of the Annunciation, is ‘modesty’. There is no fear in modesty – which must be distinguished from shyness, which is fearful. True modesty, where we allow the knowing-power of another to enter and explore us is that readiness, openness and sensitivity we often call ‘humility’.

Humility is the power that reveals and roots us in our precise place in relationship to another. As such, it is the basis for all real encounter. It is closely linked to another precondition for any personal encounter or relationship: a degree of detachment, a space which allows for the free play of the creative energy of love to effect union between us and the other. The space is usually filled with our own self-consciousness but in prayer it is emptied of all egoism and is filled instead with the pure consciousness of union in the power of love. Prayer itself is our awareness of our liberating union with the creative power of love that creates and sustains us in the person of Jesus. Because of the Incarnation, the tangible actuality of Jesus as God and man – our brother – this awareness is something more than rational knowledge. We can talk intelligently, beautifully, usefully, of the Incarnation, but this is not in itself knowing the person of Jesus as a living reality in and of my being. We can spend a lifetime studying the work and personality of Charlemagne or Bismarck, but this is not really knowing them – and never can be because no personal, living link unites them to us anymore. In the case of Jesus we have this link in his Spirit which fills our ingot being with the infinite, loving power of his resurrected life. And so we can know the person of Jesus, but it is with the ‘real knowledge’ or ‘full knowledge’ spoken of by St Paul when he exhorted the Church to know the love of Christ ‘though it is beyond knowledge’. (Main, John. Community of Love, 1990, Continuum, New York, p161-162.)

Mary’s willingness to be known, to be open to God the Father’s purpose for her, is inspiring. Her trust in his goodness and wisdom, when it must have seemed crazy, is an example to me today. Her resting in the truth, and treasuring it in her heart, as well as her prayerfulness and fidelity, are encouragements to me as I walk in the path of prayer / meditation.

Jesus, thank you for your mother, Mary. Thank you for her example to me. Give me a heart to walk with you in the same simplicity, trust and devotion. Amen.

(This is a joint statement on the role of Mary, from a theological commission looking for doctrinal commonalities between the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Church)

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